Page 22 of Fireline

For the next few hours, Booth sat with Nova, reliving the fire and recounting their run-in with the arsonist to the sheriff and a deputy who jotted down notes.

By the time they’d finished, their crew had made it back and loaded the speed racks and gear on the plane. Aria was doing the preflight checks, ready to fly everything over to Sophie’s so they could unload before sunset.

“Everyone in the vans!” Logan shouted. “We’re pulling out in five.”

Booth slept on the hour-long drive to Sunflower Ranch and woke when the van hit the pothole-filled driveway. They pulled up to the house not far from where Aria had her plane on the ground.

He was one of the last to climb out of the van and paused to stretch. His knees ached, and his lower back did a little snap, crackle, pop.

The smell of burning charcoal and grilled meat wafted from a barbecue, where Sophie stood turning patties. His stomach rumbled, but the jerky and power bar he’d eaten earlier would have to hold a little while longer.

Each smokejumper worked a three-day shift with one day off during fire season, but they were on call even on their day off. They’d need to get the equipment set up to go at a moment’s notice.

“All right,” Nova shouted. “Now the real work begins. Let’s get this plane unloaded.”

Finn moaned. “I need sustenance.”

Booth tossed a granola bar, and Finn caught it between his palms. “Sooner we get done, the sooner we can eat a real meal.”

Nova rounded the corner, attempting to drag a rack all by herself.

Booth set his water down and jogged over. “Here, let me help.”

“I think I got it.” Sweat dripped from the red curls plastered to Nova’s forehead and cut streaks through the black ash and grime on her face. Her boot caught a rock and she stumbled.

And that was just enough. He walked over and picked up the other end of the rack. Together, they carried it to the entrance of the barn and handed it off to Vince and Eric.

Nova looked at him, this time with softness in her eyes. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to do everything alone.” He smiled and headed back to the plane for another load.

Aria dropped a box on the stack and pushed out a breath. “You’re gettin’ under her skin, ya know?” She pulled her ball cap off and held the bill between her teeth while she gathered her hair off her neck.

Booth walked up the ramp. “Who?”

“Nova. She doesn’t ask for help easily.”

“Ever,” he corrected.

Aria tugged her hat back on and leaned on the stack of boxes. “It’s not easy to lose your parents. Believe me, I know. You tend to erect walls. Mostly I figure only someone who’s worth it will take the time to chip away and see who’s really inside.”

He studied Aria. Saw the pain in her eyes. “You?”

She picked at a piece of tape. “Yeah. Died in Sri Lanka.”

Booth gave her space to get the words out.

“My parents were missionaries. They thought they were doing God’s work, but you know what they called the tsunami?”

“An act of God?”

Aria turned and grabbed another box. Carried it to the ramp and started a new stack. “Exactly.” She set the box down hard. “So trust me when I say that Nova has reasons for her walls. It’s up to you to decide if you want to see what’s behind them.”

For a moment yesterday, as they were walking, he’d thought maybe he had. And again after he’d watched her try so hard to save the homestead. But even now, as he cast a look at her restacking supplies…she seemed so driven. Alone, yes, but driven.

Maybe people could say the same about him.

Booth picked up the stack of boxes. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp and turned. “Hey, Aria?”

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